dates and plates

Well, I’ve finally got my promotion…four months late but the back pay will be good. I think I’m going to buy a new guitar, a Taylor this time. Because sometimes a guy’s just got to buy a new guitar.
I’ve been covered up lately with work and today I was finally worn down and tired. I could tell it was coming. The allocation of hard armored vehicles has been the thorn in my side this week but unfortunately I took it out on a Captain who stopped by for a special billeting request. I think I got my point across that his flippant special request turned me into a bad guy, either by telling the billeting people to ignore the rules they are supposed to work by or for me denying his request for a special roommate. I’m not a big fan of special requests.
Today MSgt M, Angie, and I went to the National Restaurant in the Al-Rasheed for lunch. It was pretty nice…I kept my road rage on the way over to a minimum. I had the mixed grill but was too tired to be hungry. Angie had the curry chicken which was good but bland for curry. Afterwards I had a cup of coffee and the waiter brought out a plate of the crunchy, only partially rotten yellow dates. They were sooo sweet. MSgt M had this milk and yogurt mixture to dip the dates in but it tasted more like old milk from the back of the refrigerator than anything else. It reminded me of Iceland where traditionally meats were preserved in sour milk.
My grandfather used to hide money under people’s dinner plates when they’d have people over for dinner. I guess that’s why I picked up my plate and turned it over and saw that the plates were all made in Sweden and had Al-Rasheed stamped on them. Angie took one and stuffed it in her shirt for a souvenir. She was going to take an ashtray but the plate was better. When we got the $54 tab I figured we deserved something to take with us.
Bone tired I sat through two meetings this afternoon. I find meetings helpful when working with KBR and the State Department…it’s the only way to corner them and find out what they’re doing.
I put on the rank Friday…that will be good.

Peeps and Saddam's Playground

I’ll admit it…I’ve grown a little jaded in Iraq. I don’t look at the progress as much, don’t smile at the little street urchins trying to sell me chewing gum and porn, don’t really care about going back to the flea market to see what cool relics of the culture I can find. All I’m looking for now is a C-130 doing a combat take off to fly me and a handful of others to Kuwait.
Which is why today was…sort of cool. It was like everyday has been lately, come in, work and drink a pot of coffee. But then I realized how little some people do here, especially when they get short like me. So I abandoned all pretense and allowed short-timers syndrome to wash my stern bitter jaw-set aside, at least I gave into it a little bit. That was necessary for all the stuff that eventually made the day cooler than any have been lately.
First, 5000 boxes of patriotic Peeps came in. Yes, red-white-and-blue marshmallow chickens. Lt L walked around flinging cases of them into people’s offices. I ate a whole box, pleased as a fat kid eating cake. I posed for the mandatory pictures. The whole point of Peeps sending all the little chickens to us was to take pictures of soldiers, sailors, airmen, and Marines biting in to the chewy goo of the marshmallow chickens.
Then, I thought about going to workout but instead got Angie and Lt L and drove them over to the crossed swords at Saddams old parade field. I’ve been up in the 60 foot tall tower of Saddam’s hand before but Angie needed her picture taken hanging out of the crack at the wrist so I stayed down taking pictures until she climbed the girders to the top with the help of the Iraqi police man with the Veterans For Kerry bumper sticker.
It was late afternoon so I was able to get some really cool shots, playing with the angle of the sun. We took pictures of the security guards holding the peeps we gave them and then took their one AK-47 they shared and climbed up on the concrete part of the memorial and shot various poses of us holding the gun. I can’t believe owning something like that is legal again in the U.S. I wanted to shoot the gun off in the air and yell, I just won a soccer game, I just won a soccer game…but that may have cost more than the $5 we paid the guards to look the other way, I mean show us around.
Afterwards we made an impromptu movie which…maybe could have used a script. But in a way I felt that old collegiate feeling out there today in the bright, slanted sunlight and crisp 98 degree air of Baghdad in autumn. Something about today made me say, its not that bad…and to paraphrase Garrison Keillor, sometimes not that bad is the best anything can be.

guageing my fun meter

Things have been very busy this week since LtCol V left and I had to step up to Director of Logistics. I hear I still get to leave on the 11th but I’m not going to hold my breath. Someone has to be here until somebody else gets here.
The mortars and rockets have been more quiet this week but in other ways it really feels like a war. The other morning I sat at my desk answering emails when a LtCol walked in and asked how to reach Gulf Services…he needed someone to come out and identify the body of the first American hostage that was killed this week. I sent him to the contracting office since I don’t do anything with the contracts. Those executions by al-Zuqaris group are really unnerving. I hope that kill that bastard soon.
Also this week I realized what a load of crap everybody is selling when they tell you how much the Iraqi people appreciate their “liberation”. These people remember kindness five minutes and a small slight to the death. There’s one group of sand baggers I see everyday in my trailer camp. This group is rough. I regularly stare down one fat one. The others are adolescent boys who sometimes ask for stuff. One kept asking for my CD walkman…I told him to pack sand. They are a rough group. The other day they told an Air Force Chief Master sergeant (and fellow rock hound) friend of mine they were going to kill him. But he couldn’t identify who said it. We should have rounded up the whole bunch and sent them to a detention camp until someone dimed out whoever said it.
And last night…two helos flew over followed by a bright light and a vapor trail. I don’t know if it was a flare or a rocket but somebody shot something at them.
Yeah, my fun meter is pegged. Happiness is Iraq in my rearview mirror.

On the cover of the rolling stone

Yesterday I walked to the PX to pick up a box of raisins and a Rolling Stone. On the way back I saw a lady in traditional black Muslim garb kneeling in front of the Hajii Super Wal-Mart which is what I call the little shack joined to the PX because they sell everything despite 160 sq ft of floor space. At her feet was a terribly small little kid with flies crawling all over his face and knobby joints of knees and elbows sticking out from malnourishment. I looked away and kept walking. Today if I get time I might go back over and give them a box of raisins.
My question…isn’t the mother exploiting her child by dragging him out like that? But how would we know about such situations without exploitation?

MASH and a country evening

Yesterday was LtCol V’s departure date…yet again I watch someone come in after I got here and already they’re going home. But LtCol V got extended 30 days so he definitely did his time plus some. He told me two nights ago he felt like he was bailing on us but I told him not to worry. Do your time and go home. He’s the first Director of Logistics I’ve seen here who truly cared…about the job and about the people working for him.
Unforseen events caused all ground transport to BIAP to be canexed yesterday so we found him a seat on an outbound Blackhawk. Lt L and I carried his bags to the helipad and on to the helicopter. Doing the low duck under the rotating blades we did a quick handshake and wave good-bye then in a swirl of sand the helo was gone…just like the last episode of MASH.
Quiet day all day yesterday. I worked out then went to a short farewell ceremony for YN1 C. Afterwards it was out to the pool to see Chely Wright in concert. I’ve known of Chely Wright for ten years but never followed her music much except for that one song, Jezebell. She also had a song called Single White Female which was a number one hit but I don’t much care for it. One song she sang last night was horrible – The River. It’s a song about two of her friends falling or having a car wreck into a river and drowning. Sad.
Chely is a pretty girl, 30-something as her web site says. I think we are about the same age. I remember years ago she said she used to play Minnie Pearl in a show at Opryland…Nashville’s defunct theme park which now is a big mall.
At the end of the show she sang a song she’d written about a lady flipping her of because she had a U.S. Marines sticker on the bumper of her SUV. It’s a true story but I really expect she must have cut the lady off in traffic or something…I couldn’t imagine a Marines bumper sticker causing anyone to flip someone off. But the song was very good. In my favorite part she talked about the places she’s been on USO tours (Korea, Japan, Kuwait, Iraq) and wondered if the people who always disparage U.S. military operations have ever been to any of the places they are so opinionated about. I know that many have but most haven’t. Experience goes a long way in my mind for validating someone’s point of view.
Chely did a great job and more importantly she came to a dangerous place to take our minds off of where we are for a couple of hours. We actually had a brief before the show to tell us what to do in case of an indirect fire attack…but we haven’t had one of those in three or four days.
Afterwards my friend Angie and I sat on my front steps critiquing the show and talking about…going mushroom hunting in Oregon. She said they could make $200 in a couple of hours selling mushrooms to restaurants.
Between Chely Wright and mushroom hunting if that ain’t country then tell me what is.

Why Iraq and where will it go

Yesterday the truth came out: the war in Iraq is an attempt to draw terrorist to Iraq and away from the United States. A certain general said that to my boss.
Is this a war we can win? Its a war we can pull out of. The Iraqi people as far as I can tell just want peace and they don't know who will give it. Its not in their charachter to fight for a democracy. Its not our business to force them to. The police and soldiers we have trained here face extremely dangerous jobs manning check points and going door to door but I think they take the risk because they want to take out the danger from the insurgents but I don't know that they have a sense of nationalism at the foundation. Iraqis operate in a group effort mentality. We were briefed on this before coming over here. Only when the nation as a whole decides to destroy the insurgents will it happen.

good-bye and property value

We had a going away for LtCol V. last night…he leaves Saturday. I sat up the party in the back garden and yesterday afternoon a me, Johnnie, LT L (Ken) and the new MSgt went up on the roof to fly an American flag which I presented. My speech was to the point. In the political world of the military officer LtCol V talked straight, said what he thought, told self serving parties they were full of shit straight to their face and always based his actions on the question, “Is this the right thing to do.” Extremely rare qualities to find in anyone anywhere. My dad is the same way…and me to. More than one person has complained that I’m abrasive but fairness and a policy that really questions exceptions is the best way to deal with people. In the military if someone follows a policy then they are the exception.
OPNAV still hasn’t approved my relief yet which had me get aggravated on the phone yesterday with a LCDR who told me he couldn’t do anything until my spot was approved. My question was simple: I’m here, the manning document says a Naval officer will continue to do the job I do, this has been approved by the JCS, so in all likelihood OPNAV will find this to be a valid requirement. So, I asked if he’d sent out a feeler to the commands to ID a replacement to come fill my billet…No.
Last night I sat out and talked with a PSD. He sat turning up a bottle of Jameson (Scotch?). Here’s how much money he makes: he lives on Ocean Beach in San Diego, is unemployed except for what he does over here, which is escort important people, but when he goes back he’ll have enough money to buy a house on the beach and be able to remain unemployed for awhile. Sounds like a plan. He said he gets up and surfs every morning and works out every afternoon then goes out at night. That’s living.

The Reform Party and Beyond

The Democrats and Republicans no longer have anything to offer our country. All they have a agendas, defected by inbreeding. Demopublicans…both serving corporate interests, the corporate geography with no love for, no idea what America is, and no concern for what Americans want. What separates the parties is religious fundamentalism on the part of Republicans and the Democrats desire to give away our tax money as handout to every open hand and whining mouth.
So I’ve done research, found a new party, the Reform Party. Here are some RP positions (according to their 2003 platform) and my commentary:

1) TRADE – RP says to repeal NAFTA, I agree…fair trade is a ploy for Big Business to get cheap labor by exporting U.S. jobs. STOP SENDING AMERICAN JOBS OVERSEAS.
2) CORPORATE TAKEOVER – RP wants heavy handed government regulation of mergers and to bust up monopolies, I agree. This is radical but I think there should be a cap on how much a company can have in assessts, arbitrarily lets say $5 million. Of course this ceiling would have to be raised for capital intensive industries like construction, airplane manufactureing, shipping and others but you get the idea. The best way to destroy the large corporations which currently control the U.S. and world economies is through relentless taxation. At the same time tax incentives and government aid should be offered to encourage small business start up to provide the services and products currently being supplied by large corporations. The only hope for America as we know it, its land and its people, is to destroy the corporate geography, the globalism that has been created through the cancerous, rampant growth of international business. Corporations have even taken over America when she goes to war, and its costing the tax payers billions. The war in Iraq is a joint effort between the U.S. military and Halliburton and its subsidiaries who charge the U.S. exhorbitant amounts to pay its often underskilled workers outrageous salaries for performing tasks which could be performed by military members making a third of what the contractors are paid. Additionally, these corporations make enormous profit and will promote campaigns which will keep them in business. As long as this new system of fighting a war is so profitable the powers that be will frivolously engage our country in war.
3) ENVIRONMENT – RP says we need to decrease our dependency on foreign oil by increasing our use and research for alternative energy sources. Further RP supports increased organic agriculture and decreased use of harmful biotechnologies and commercial, corporate farming tactics. I agree. Read Fast Food Nation and visit www.culturechange.org to learn more. RP also encourages privatization of land while protecting all land, even private land based on sound ecological ideals and research rather than blatant partisanship which plays to the sentiments of those who would scourge the land as well as those who would deem all land untouchable…I partially agree. Some of our vast public holdings should be turned over to non-profit organizations (much like public radio has done) to manage with the philosophy of sustained use. The thought of public land being opened for economic use makes many people cringe but the answer to responsible, non-devastating timber and mineral harvesting lies in capping the size of the harvester. Small companies will be limited to working smaller pockets of land. Make the many small companies bid on how they will protect and restore the land they will be working. The same philosophy applies to grazing rights with special incentives given to ranchers who raise native species such as bison and elk for commercial use. Science, not warm fuzzies or dollars is what should drive use of our pristine lands.
4) FOREIGN AID – RP supports reducing foreign aid. Dumping in more of our money won’t save the world…I agree. However, I do propose we aid the most impoverished third world nations by helping them build small scale infrastructures based on alternative energy, which could serve as test platforms for larger scale projects in the United States.
5) IMMIGRATION – RP supports a halt to all immigration until we figure out who really lives here. America is here to support and provide for Americans and not illegal aliens…I partially agree. I think we should set limits on the number of foreigners we let in. To totally cut off the ingenuity and new ideas coming into the United States, particularly from Asia would be to loose out on what others have to offer. Furthermore the RP calls for heightened border patrol and security. I absolutely agree. We have to get handle on our border with Mexico. Stagnant over crowded cities are not in keeping with the spirit of America. Only by controlling our borders and limiting our population can we clean up the squalor of overcrowding while preparing our cities for the high density living arrangements of the future. We must preserve jobs, opportunity, and room to breathe for all Americans citizens.
6) TERM LIMITS – RP is for term limits…I disagree. I think some people have a calling to politics and if they are effective I see no problem with them staying.
7) MEDICAL CARE – RP is for privatized medical where the user has absolute choice. They are also for tax-free medical savings accounts. I sort of agree. I think Americans are charged way too much for medical care. It is a basic human right. RP calls for universal medical coverage for all veterans, even if its not at VA hospitals…I agree.
8) SOCIAL SECURITY – RP is for privatizing social security while keeping contribution mandatory. They also call for a minimum safety net to be maintained…I agree. Let people invest how they wish with those dollars…so long as they save them some way.
9) FOREIGN POLICY and INTERVENTION – RP quotes John Adams, "Wherever the standard of freedom and independence has been or shall be unfurled, there will her [America's] heart, her benedictions, and her prayers be. But she goes not abroad in search of monsters to destroy."…I wholeheartedly agree. The time has come for America to stop being the policeman of the world. If look inside we have lots of stuff to fix at home. Other nations need to do their part to save poor countries and help oppressed people. Let France do something for a change.

I didn’t see any plank for the military on the RP web site. I would support a small decrease in military spending. Of course this can only be accomplished by pursuing alternative energy sources. If we keep Republican and Democrat administrations in power, both being hand puppets to the corporate geography, we will continue our dependence on foreign oil. Peak oil will neccesitate constant U.S. invasion of oil producing nations, a military draft to support these invasions, and increased military spending to support the behemoth oil machine that fuels our corporate state which will look increasingly like a military state. Honor, courage, love of country…things most Americans possess and emotions the corporations will manipulate. I think of Waylon Jennings singing,
And could you tell me why the hell we tried to win back in the warWhat we wasted in the last?Might just aint as righteous as it used to be beforeWhen your armys out of gas

And when its over the oil economy will collapse anyway.
That said I want to make one thing clear. EVERY American owes their country two years of service. Whether it be military service or service rendered rebuilding America’s infrastructure (through yet to be developed government programs in the spirit of the New Deal), every American need to leave home, leave everyone they know behind and discover the places and people who make up our country.
Nothing is more ridiculous to me than someone straight out of high school who attends a college two hours away from their hometown and suddenly becomes vehemently critical of their country which through the eyes of an adulthood they’ve seen nothing of and know nothing about. Education is a right of every American but every American owes two years of service to their country first. Only after the preconceived notions of different people, different places, and ideas which were passed on to us during our childhood have been challenged by experience, are we open to the benefits of higher education. At its best an education will help us form our own ideas which a new generation will challenge and take away the best parts of to build on themselves.
Just as the Whig party controlled and faded, the No-Nothings elected a president and fell apart, its time for the people of the United States to bring a new party into power…one that cares about Americans and wants to protect the our way of life…one for Americans.

destruction and coffee talk

Sunday, my day off. After sitting around the pool talking with the contracting guys till late in the evening I’d planned on sleeping in. But around 0600 the insurgents woke us up with their little bundles of joy flung over the river. I rolled around in my blanket trying to go back to sleep but two loud, close explosions that rattled my trailer like the tinny pop of a squeezed beer can made me roll out and throw on my helmet and body armor.
I stepped outside, a cool morning, almost chilly since I wasn’t wearing a shirt under my flak vest. There was a heavy plume of black smoke, so heavy I don’t know why it didn’t fall to the ground instead of raising into the the air. Something big and close had been hit. We’re supposed to stay in our trailers during an attack, putting our mattress over our bodies. But I walked to the bunker. I’d rather die under God’s open sky than inside a mobile home.
After an hour the ALL CLEAR sounded and my friend Angie and I walked over to see what had been hit. There was a big crater in front of the palace. The burnt out humvee which had bore the brunt of the blast sat 50 feet from one of the billeting tents. We got really lucky or unlucky depending on how you look at it.
Afterwards I sat out at the pool, drinking coffee, reading, and writing on my political manifesto which I will publish soon. Despite the morning’s activity the pool and grassy courtyard under the palms was crowded. If you’ve got to go to hell go there with a tan.
Last night I attended a charity book signing for the Iraqi Women’s Shelter. The book was Tamerlane, written about the conqueror by that name. He accomplished a lot of killing sounds like and never lost a battle. The author, Justin Marozzi, spoke a few minutes then turned it over to the events organizer, Major B, a pretty lady with clear skin and blue green eyes, not much older than me, who in real life is an attorney in Nashville. I lolly gagged too long deciding whether or not to buy a copy and just as I reached to pick one up some dude yanked it from my fingertips saying, “That’s mine.” I had a mild flash of rage but instead of ripping out his jugular with my hand I grabbed a Heineken out of the garbage can full of ice and walked into the shadows to talk to other people.
Later I talked to Marozzi about his writing process. He said he could never hold a regular job while writing a book.

Chief's Pinning

Its getting cooler in Baghdad. This morning felt like it was in the 70’s which is downright cool when you’re coming out of a 130 degree summer. But the insurgents sent a warm little boom flying over the Tigris to wake us from our fall reveries.
Yesterday was the Chiefs pinning ceremony. The position of Chief Petty Officer (E7) is a special one in the Navy. Its when an enlisted person retires the crow, takes of the crackerjacks and Dixie cup and dons khakis and a combo cover. They join the Chiefs mess on the ship and I think they are given a coffee mug with the admonishment to never wash it…just let that brown stain accrue as a sign of how long they’ve been a chief.
So a Chief’s pinning is a big ceremony. The middle of the desert has a small Navy footprint so we only pinned four Chief’s yesterday. A rear admiral gave the speech. Four retired Chiefs working over here either in government service or contractors stood on the side. After each Chief was pinned him and his Chief sponsor would walk over and stand with the retired chiefs. The Chief read the Chief’s creed…”Ask the Chief has become a household phrase both in and out of the Navy…”
I enjoy these ceremonies. These are the events that make being in the Navy the best job around. This was my fourth one. It was the third I’ve seen while on a deployment and the other one we were out at sea doing work ups. I want to see the next Chief pinning ceremony from homeport.
The event drew the handful of Navy personnel around here out of the wood work. One was an absolutely stunning LN2. She had red hair and green eyes and really is the kind of girl who can stop traffic or launch a thousand ships. A guy walked up to here and asked to have his picture taken. Afterwards I walked over to talk again. “What did that dude want his picture taken for?”
“Sir he said he wanted to have his picture taken with his Marine bodyguard or something.”
“That’s crap…you’re a pretty girl with red hair. That’s why he wanted his picture taken with you. That sort of burns me up.” Of course, I’ve done the exact same thing before.
“Sir, that happens here all the time. I want to tell them to get a life.” She used to be on my old ship, USS SACRAMENTO, but that was before I got there. She’s getting out of the Navy because she has two kids and nobody to take care of them when she’s gone. I wished her luck and walked over to the garbage cans to break up ice for the party we were having later.
Last night we had a going away party for SSgt N (Bob). We presented him his flag then LtCol V sang while I played guitar. It was a good event, laid back. But its pretty dark out by the hedge row of lime trees. The memorable line from last nights top ten list:
You know you’ve been in Baghdad when you go home and stop signs don’t mean a damn thing.

power of music

Yesterday morning Hiba cam up to my office to pick up the State Department work requests. She saw my guitar lying on my desk. “Do you play sir?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“I love guitar music, very beautiful. Do you know the song by country music singer, uh, Garth Brooks?”
“I can play The Dance.”
“Yes, the Dance, very beautiful.” I picked up my guitar, a Yamaha classical (C-70) I bought at the souk (flea market). I had to tune it because walking from 100 degree desert air into an air conditioned building reeks havoc on strings. But it’s a uniform havoc, two twists on each string brought it back up and in tune. I played the Dance, one of my favorite country music songs of the 1990’s. It always reminds me of race car driver Davey Allison because when he died in 1993 this was the song to play as a tribute. I didn’t sing very loud and Hiba sang along with me. She has a soft, pretty voice with an Arabic flare on the words. “That was very nice. I want to learn to play piano…”
When she walked out the Master Seargent in our office said, “Sir, I think you could have an Arabic wife if you wanted one,”. Yeah, I guess I could forget about the Russian mail order bride.
I had my guitar in to practice with LtCol V on the song we were supposed to play later that night at Commander’s Call.. He wrote a song about Baghdad based on Jerry Jeff Walker’s London Homesick Blues. Trouble is I’ve never heard the song so had to figure out the chords from just him humming the tune. While we practiced Maj S (Sheldon) walked in and asked me what songs I knew. I told him mostly old school country which he said was right up his alley. It isn’t often you meet a black guy who knows an extensive catalog of old country music.
So last night Sheldon and I were the opening act. The event was held outside by the pool, there were about 120 members of the JASG there. We sang “Old Flame” by Alabama and everybody clapped. Then after dinner before we kicked off the awards ceremony Sheldon sang “The Dance” while I played guitar. Then at LtCol V sang his song. He started without waiting to get the pitch from me so while I played in the key we’d practiced in (E), he sang in various keys which I never found. But it was still a good song, he made up some funny words about Marines and how the State Department blocks progress on any issue they become involved with. Cynicism is sanity in the military.
To round out the evening, at the Commander’s request Sheldon sang “The Angry American” by Toby Kieth while I beat the hell out of my guitar. It sounded really good.
The power of music is amazes me. In one day it bridged cultures between an American hillbilly and a devout Muslim girl and later it helped galvanize a sometimes demoralized group of soldiers, sailors, airmen, and marines into unified team, cheering, drinking near beer and having a good time. Years ago my grandmother told me I’d always be popular as long as I played my guitar. Well, at any rate I’m always the guy with the guitar.

Perspective

My friend Hiba was in the office this afternoon, dropping off and picking up work requests for State Department review. She’s a pretty girl, twenty three, with a soft voice and beautiful black hair, mostly hidden under her Muslim head scarf. She showed me how I could convert my keyboard to Arabic (اهلاش شممشا لاهممغ شممشا لاهممغ) by pressing alt/shift.
Lately a new mass email has been going around talking about Iraq’s role in Bible prophecy. One part of the email supposedly quotes the Koran Chapter 9, verse 11. Yeah, 9/11. In this translation it talks about middle easterners awakening a great eagle who will “cleanse the land of Allah.” Because of the intricacies of the language The Koran can only be truly read and absolutely comprehended in Arabic. Everything else is just a translation. I asked Hiba to read that verse to me and see what she thinks it says. So she said she would bring in a copy of the Koran from the al-mutanabbi book market when she goes there this week.
Appearantly this is a famous place in the heart of old Baghdad. Foreigners commonly go there. But, I’m stuck in the international zone (not necessarily a bad thing) so will not get to see that side of Baghdad. She sent me a picture and the attached email:

You are welcome … maybe in the future when every thing become good and peaceful you can come in a visit and see all the beautiful site in Iraq and go wherever you like to go

Its good to see an Iraqi girl who risks her life coming thru these checkpoints every day have so much optimism. Last night a rocket hit 100 feet from my trailer but didn’t explode. I don’t have optimism…but then, Iraq is only my problem for another month. Its all about perspective.

perspective

My friend Hiba was in the office this afternoon, dropping off and picking up work requests for State Department review. She’s a pretty girl, twenty three, with a soft voice and beautiful black hair, mostly hidden under her Muslim head scarf. She showed me how I could convert my keyboard to Arabic (اهلاش شممشا لاهممغ شممشا لاهممغ) by pressing alt/shift.
Lately a new mass email has been going around talking about Iraq’s role in Bible prophecy. One part of the email supposedly quotes the Koran Chapter 9, verse 11. Yeah, 9/11. In this translation it talks about middle easterners awakening a great eagle who will “cleanse the land of Allah.” Because of the intricacies of the language The Koran can only be truly read and absolutely comprehended in Arabic. Everything else is just a translation. I asked Hiba to read that verse to me and see what she thinks it says. So she said she would bring in a copy of the Koran from the al-mutanabbi book market when she goes there this week.
Appearantly this is a famous place in the heart of old Baghdad. Foreigners commonly go there. But, I’m stuck in the international zone (not necessarily a bad thing) so will not get to see that side of Baghdad. She sent me a picture and the attached email:

You are welcome … maybe in the future when every thing become good and peaceful you can come in a visit and see all the beautiful site in Iraq and go wherever you like to go

Its good to see an Iraqi girl who risks her life coming thru these checkpoints every day have so much optimism. Last night a rocket hit 100 feet from my trailer but didn’t explode. I don’t have optimism…but then, Iraq is only my problem for another month. Its all about perspective.

Surfin' Sasquatch

I accomplished a lot today, helping the State Department come to grips with the fact that they’ve lost accountability for what work is being done around here from a facilities perspective. But I gave them a solution as well and we’ve all agreed to go from there.
I also surfed the web a lot today. This evening I did a google search for cheap land in Cumberland County, TN and came a cross a page dedicated to Bigfoot sightings in Tennessee, specifically Scott, Cumberland and Putnam counties. I followed links and found Bigfoot Central.com, and went on to discover they were at war with another web site: Bigfoot Researchers Organization (BFRO).
Evidently BFRO, which is run by a lawyer from Oxnard CA has used intimidation tactics against Bigfoot Central to kep them from showing certain articles of evidence. Its worthy to note that Bigfoot Central is run by what looks like fundamentalists Christians, the Bible figures heavily into their site.
From past Saquatch research I was familiar with BFRO so I surfed to their web site and printed and article about Gigantopithicus, the early hominoid, 9 feet tall, 1000 pounds. A few fossilized remains have been found in Asia.
Then I surfed back to the Gulf Coast Bigfoot Research Society web site and found a link to the Tennessee Bigfoot Lady. Mary Green of Overton County, TN has experienced Bigfoots in her basement and claims they have taken fruits and vegetables from her gardens and orchard. But she makes a case for hunting Bigfoot with cameras and not guns: “It is my wish to be one of their protective ambassadors in order to educate the public to their needs,” she writes.
All told I blew about fifteen minutes then went back to work…I’m a good steward of your tax dollars.
As for Bigfoot, Sasquatch – most cultures have their myths of dragons and old man of the forest type creatures, I think part of our collective memories from a long time ago…but when I move back to Washington, yeah, I’ll be looking.

First Day In Iraq

We stood around a long time that morning in the desert in Kuwait. Long enough to get bored. We put on all our gear and held up our weapons posing for pictures outside our tent at little Camp Wolverine. YN2 and IT1 hit their head with rocks, testing their helmets. I threw a small pebble in the air and waited for it to bounce off mu helmet. It hurt. I’d taken off my helmet and was wearing my boney hat so the rock bounced off my head. No shame. I was still in the funk of the 20-some odd hour plane ride from Ft Bliss, El paso Texas which had taken us to Baltimore and then to Germany. Now Kuwait, where we’d spent the night, wrapped in blankets, cold from the over charged air conditioning that chilled the tent like a freezer with slabs of meat. But the days were already hot.
Finally the little bus with the big windows showed up to take us to the airport. Like the plane ride over we sat cramped into the bus. The trip to the airfield wasn’t far. We got there and laid out our bags once again for the dogs to sniff, mostly Belgian shepards, mailnois I think they call them. Then we stood around in the shade of a dilapidated hanger and waited. We stood around until we got tired then one by one we all laid down, occasionally drifting off to sleep. After three or four hours they came and got us for the big jump, the hour long hop to Baghdad International.
We loaded into the C130 and I was lucky to find a spot with a electric wench in front of me so nobody could sit there. I propped my feet up on the winch and let the sound of the motors and the heat make me drowsy, but I didn’t sleep. Locked and loaded, we were all expecting the time had come to rock and roll.
We maintained altitude all the way into BIAP then did the steep, circular decent, battlefield landing. On the ground YN2 bolted off the plane with stomach cramps. We all pulled our three duffle bags off the large cargo pallets and laid them in a pile.
Baghdad hung heavy around us, this being the first visit for most of us. A big plume of black smoke rose up in the distance. “Sir, check it out,” said YN2 pointing to the black smoke. “Do you think that’s for us?”
“Hard to say,” I responded. We walked into the little PX they had set up in a trailer. I bought a Sprite and a bag of beef jerky. The CDR with us bought a can of SPAM and ate it with a plastic spoon. The red faced guy sitting next to me slugged back two St Pauli Girl non-alcoholics while we sat there. “I’m retried Navy, “ he said. I could tell. Just a handful of sailors sticking together in an Army world, doing the hurry up and wait which is the Army modus oparendi.
After two hours the buses and luggage truck showed up for our ride to the palace. All the military on our bus put rounds in the chamber of our M9’s and M16’s and we took off. The driver said the week before an RPG had flown over the bus. All I saw was scrubby foliage, shepherds and goats near the road and pale, deserted looking buildings in the distance.
We got to Steel Dragon parking lot staging area and waited a little while, filling out forms while more dogs sniffed our luggage. Then we walked the now familiar walk up to the north end of the palace and found our tents. We got our blankets and pillows from billeting. A pretty airman carried two of my seabags for me, while I carried one. “Sir, we all get sick here.” She was right. In a few days I had the crud.
That first night I found the office I would be working in – AIRTRANS. I walked in not having any idea what to expect so I was pleasantly surprised when I walked in and saw my friend Shane from OCS and Supply Corps school sitting there. A familiar face goes a long way to make you feel better in unfamiliar circumastances. Of course the Colonel who ran the office had no idea why I was there or what I would do. That took about three weeks of sitting around to figure out.
That evening around nine o’clock Shane took me over to his trailer and we sat out with some other people from the office and had a Carlsberg. Then I said good night, wanting to be fresh for my first full day. I got lost in the trailer camp but finally found my way back to the tent. I slept right under an air conditioner and froze. The next day I moved to a different bed.

Rocks

Walking back and forth to my hooch everyday I like to step off the brittle concrete they pour here for roads and sidewalks and kick around in the dust and gravel. I look for rocks. We are in an oxbow of the Tigris where I am so there are all manner of good, rocks, smoothed and rounded by millennia of running water. Some I find that have a good shiny surface that will look good when polished. These rocks are green, blood red, brown, and opaque. Others are smooth and thin and I carry them in my pocket to rub on, like a stress reliever. Once in the nursery I used to work at an old lady used to come in occasionally and by lambs ear, it’s a perrinial with very thick, velvety leaves. She said she took them to her friends at the nursing home…rubbing the leaves had a soothing effect. I don’t know. I rub rocks.
A few weeks ago I found a what I thought was a rock embedded in some fossilized coral. I took it in for Harold, my state department friend and a resident rock expert to look at it. Before Harold could see it Duane, the contracting guy who has some interest in rocks, said “What you’ve found is a rock with calcified crap all over it. Did you find this under somebody’s toilet?” My hands felt suddenly, foul. But then Harold looked at it with great interest.
“What you have found my friend is a tooth. It looks like the canine of a saber tooth cat or maybe a camel. Very interesting.”
So yesterday I walked around kicking rocks on a break from my office and found another, larger “tooth”. I found another, flat rock with the same calcification under it, maybe it’s a molar. I should it to Jana who was out having a cigarette break.
“Billy, tell Harold he’s full of shit. That’s a rock with some coral on it.”
I don’t know what they are but they are interesting rocks.

* * *

You might wonder if I don’t have more important things to think about than rocks. But I learned a long time ago that rocks are cool because having an interest in them doesn’t cost anything. Now I know they also give focus in a place where focus is easy to loose.

hookas and drums

Last night we had dinner at the Chinese restaurant. I had hot, hot General chicken and beef stuffed egg plant. A yellow gecko looking lizard climbed on the yellow bricks behind me, dates threatened to drop on my head from the palm tree under which we sat our table. A little kid, Saif, kept asking me for my flashlight. He ran around with it shining it at stuff but I made him give it back. I’ll get one at the exchange and give it to him in a couple of days. But nobody gets my blue minimag.
Then we drove down to the Green Zone Café and sat with three local guys: Tarif is the only one whose name I remember. He said it meant rainbow. Bob told him that in the States rainbow is the symbol for being gay. Once again my group manages to be the ugly Americans. He didn’t understand so his buddy translated for him then laughed at him.
We ordered a hooka pipe to be brought out to the table. A hooka is what the worm smoked in Alice in Wonderland. It’s a large water bong. You burn hot coals in the top of it. The ones we smoked last night were apple flavored and really good. We all took deep hits and rolled the cool smoke out our nostrils like human dragons.
There was some Arabic music playing on the television and occasionally a little drum band would get up to play on very sized local folk style bongos. They did a good job meshing all kinds of rythms and sounds using just their fingers.
The music made me think of all the sand bag guys who sing while they work. Tarif said those guys are singing traditional folk songs. I like the tone structure and scales of this music…its organic to this landscape.
Today I have to walk down to the flea market and order Bob’s embroidered thanks for your interest in national defense going away flag. I’ll miss him to. Man, its always a good bye.